


Quicksilver: Pet--Pietro Maximoff

by crossoverqueen9703



Series: Quicksilver: Avenger. Quicksilver: X-Man. [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Crossover, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Pre-X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019), Spoilers, WandaVision spoilers, dadneto, westview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 02:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossoverqueen9703/pseuds/crossoverqueen9703
Summary: WANDAVISION SPOILERS:Quicksilver, Pietro Maximoff spent Halloween with his sister and awesome nephews. He was shot for no reason. His life had been one death after another, his grief uncontrollable and drowning him...Right...?After finding himself a world so different than the one he left, the son of Magneto and sister of the Scarlet Witch felt the break of a certain necklace.Sequel to Quicksilver: Peter Maximoff
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Peter Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Maximoff
Series: Quicksilver: Avenger. Quicksilver: X-Man. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218986
Kudos: 74





	Quicksilver: Pet--Pietro Maximoff

**Author's Note:**

> I never imagined this would be so popular. As it is, here's my second part!
> 
> It can sort of be read without reading the first one. Quick summary: Peter ended up in the MCU because he ran fast enough to hear Wanda's call. After finding out about Westview and messing with SWORD a bit, he walked into the Hex.

_“Ooh, you’re a nice one. Did Wanda really bring you from so far? She must be more powerful than I even realized.” The mutant did not move. Or think. He was unconscious, only capable of hearing and seeing, not listening and observing. When the mutant would look back at this memory, he would have a newfound dislike for telepaths and anyone else who could paralyze. Anyone who could take away will and thought. “What’s your name?”_

_“Quicksilver.”_

_“Quicksilver? You really are a stroke of luck, aren’t you, darlin’?” The woman’s eyes danced in anticipation of what was to come._

-

-

-

The next time Peter Maximoff could think, he regretted it.

Grief.

A crushing grief was the only emotion he could feel.

Pain. Loss. Anger. Sadness. Depression. _Grief._

He knew what anyone with his DNA could do when they grieved. It was easy to figure out who was controlling this. After seeing Jean Grey, a woman with powers seemingly the same as “Wanda”, take out the most powerful mutant to ever live, it was easy.

His sorta-twin…

Of course, he had theorized the “Hex” would only affect things that did not fit. He had checked to make sure all of his clothes were still from the good old eighties. Double- and triple-checked. 

Through that agony, he could form enough thoughts to wonder why it had failed.

A reminder of his brother’s wounds ( _he did not have a brother, why was he feeling that_?) crushed those thoughts.

It was too hard.

“Unleash hell, devil spawn!”

Playing pranks on the neighbors felt perfectly natural.

  * \- - - - - - - -



Pietro frowned at Geraldine. Or was it Monica? Why would he know her name was Monica Rambeau? No, Pietro had to stop her from messing with Agatha’s plan. Pietro would keep her occupied. Take her to his man-cave.

That little voice in the back of his head, Agatha. It was not like he could resist it.

His body acted on its own. He wished he could stop himself. He cared about--no. Those were not his thoughts. He was an X-Man. He had to protect innocents, no matter what. But that stabbing pain… he _missed them._ He wanted them back.

He was Peter Maximoff. He was Pietro Maximoff. He was Pe-Pietro. Hydra made him thi--he was born this way. His father was--dead.

That pain and the hopeless combination of all of it… it found rest on one thing.

That was all that really mattered.

He was a speedster.

He was Pietro Maximoff. He had to stop Geraldine from doing whatever she was doing.

His mouth acted on its own, saying “Snooper’s gonna snoop.”

Why was he doing this?

* * *

Pietro casually glanced at the woman currently residing in his room. She had fought a bit as he wiped the floor with her. Everyone always underestimated him.

“Wanda!” She banged against the window. No way she was going to get out, it was soundproof and everything. Agnes made sure of it. Why was he--Agnes was great that way. Always thought of everything. “Wanda!” More banging.

Pietro started tuning his guitar softly. Nice way to get the nerves out. His stomach still hurt a little from that whole “getting thrown across the room” thing a few days ago--it had been a few days, ri--it had been a few days.

“Wanda!”

“Don’t waste your breath, babe. No one can hear you from in here.”

He plucked a few notes. It sounded about right. Not that he had much experience in ways of guitaring, but he was decent. His fingers seemed to know better than his brain.

The woman tried to sprint out.

Pfft.

That was cute.

To Monica, he materialized right in front of her, frowning. To Pietro, he barely even tried to move.

Pluses of superspeed: enough momentum meant a lot of strength. For some reason, Pietro thought he had done it with his fist before. Why would he ever bother using all of his weight? One finger could do fine against any human.

One tap later and the woman was ten-ish feet--no, three meters away. 

She groaned.

Ah, humans. They were so fragile. At least give him a challenge next time.

Why was he--no, he had to keep her in here. It was important. 

He was hungry. Using speed did that to him. He was--it must be a side-effect of his powers. Hydra must have stabilized his metabolism and it wore off when he came to Wanda’s side.

He threw a few ingredients in the blender, letting it go as Monica stood up. He did not wonder how he knew her real name. He just did. That was life, just doing.

“What is this stuff?” Monica asked.

“This is my man-cave,” he answered. It was weird to have it so hig--it was his place to hang out. “A place to chillax, you know, while the missus is stirring up trouble.”

His wife could be a pain.

Maybe he could lighten up this awkward moment with some music. “You a fan of Steven Seagal?”

She _ignored_ him. Rude. He took it as a yes, starting to turn it on in slow-motion. Using his powers was pointless right now. His body wanted to. His mind did not let him. Pietro did not know why.

A few moments later, she said the most common-sense statement Pietro had ever heard.

“Agnes doesn’t live here.” Duh. “You do.”

Well, obviously. Hanging out at his sister’s house was just a temporary arrangement. He could not leave the town anyway. This was close enough.

Whoops. He almost spilled the shake. That would be annoying, it would ruin all his music.

“You’re... Ralph… Bohner?”

 _Boner_? Whoever she thought he was, he must be one sucky guy. “Boner?” He chuckled.

“How… is she controlling you?”

She stood up like she intended to get her butt kicked again. He stood up in a fake martial arts stance. He could take anyway after his… training from Hydra.

“You wanna tussle again? Hmm? Huh? Huh?” 

Pietro’s body stood up on its own as he prepared to stop her. Why did he have to keep her in?

The answer was simple. It was the only way Pietro kept that grief from consuming him earlier. _Her_ grief. 

Play the part.

That was all he had to do.

Do what Agnes wanted, do what Wanda wanted, and play the part.

Before he had a chance to activate his speed--why was he so overconfident? He felt his muscles complain like they had been messing around during a fight before and gotten punched before--Monica flipped him over.

Damn.

She was good.

He groaned. He had never been thrown around like this. No, he had. Dozens of times. No, he had never. Only shot by Hydra before they would test his healing skills and shot on the street after being such a failure. 

He felt his neck ache this time.

No. He had a part to play, he had to--he had to stop it--he had to go into it. He had to survive. He could not bear that grief, that lack of control, that… fear again.

“Meow, she’s feisty,” he noted. _She_ would like that. It fit into his role.

The woman’s eyes were glowing. Why did he suddenly want to help her? Why was he worried about her? He barely knew her.

Her knee dug into his chest.

It hurt like _hell_.

She reached for his neck. He felt a tug.

.

.

.

Peter Maximoff never imagined feeling pain would be so amazing.

The last few days had been weird. They flashed through his mind, each with increasing speed. Superspeed had its perks.

The drowning agony was gone.

He had never felt anything like it.

It was a breath of fresh air to finally be able to control his own body properly.

The last three days, was it? Everything felt so _wrong_.

He focused his energy on slowing everyone else down. He had to focus. The Professor said to focus on what _did_ exist. What he knew existed, that way telepaths would not affect him.

His speed existed.

His memories, however weird they were, still existed.

Monica Rambeau existed. Her eyes were glowing. Alright. That was a problem for later.

 _What the hell was going on_?

Finally living without that agony; it was nice. 

Well, there was one thing he had to say aloud before it would stop bothering him, it was… yeah, he would never say it aloud. He knew it anyway.

That pain, he had been able to fight it. The necklace kept his control mostly on the purple lady anyway, not Wanda. Even with her pain and agony and everything, he knew it was only a sliver of the real thing.

Erik had felt the real thing.

Peter felt a stab of… something for his biological father.

No.

He had other things to focus on now.

What would Raven say? Assess the situation, note escape routes, note your opponent, create two escape plans, analyze everything you remember.

The beads on his necklace were about a centimeter away from his body. He had plenty of time.

He was an X-Man. He could handle this.

He let his mind fall into his past memories with all the strength a slightly-but-not-really-non-telepath-with-a-few-telepathy-tricks could.

* * *

_Three days ago._

Peter was lying on the couch.

“I’m gonna wake him up,” one of the boys whispered.

“Don’t!” the other twin whispered back.

Peter’s eyes opened. He knew he was about to go play a prank on them. His nephews were such good material. They just made it so _easy_.

“He’s our uncle. Why would I be scared?” 

Because it was nap time. And Peter was tired. Perfectly valid reason, although he had no idea if it was Agatha or Pietro that plotted his next action.

“‘Cause it’s four o’clock in the afternoon. You’re secretly afraid he’s a vampire.” Oh, they were such easy targets. If Pietro had any hints of the body he was kinda inhabiting, Peter knew exactly what came next.

“No, I’m not.” Who was who anyway? He should probably figure out which of his sister’s twins were which one of these days. It seemed like important information.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

He internally smirked.

“Blood is thicker than water! I show you!” came out in a Russian accent. It sounded Russian-ish, anyway. He sped over to the other side, roaring as he terrified the kids.

It was funny, yeah, but why would he do that?

He had stopped using his speed recklessly ages ago, after Erik and Raven did that whole thing. It was too dangerous.

Way too dangerous when it came to making a bunch of circles around the room solely to mess with them.

It felt way too natural.

And that fake stabbing stuff? 

He found himself amused at his own antics, but come on. He was a little more mature than that. Coming from a guy who just got out of his mother’s basement, that was saying something.

He was playing the role of the “cool uncle”. No surprise, Lorna was pregnant and he had every intention of being the cool uncle to her kids. But it felt wrong, knowing he was just playing a role here.

Everything felt wrong.

Why was he doing this stuff?

He had not regained any memory at this point. Was Agatha trying to make him more charismatic? That might make sense. She had never been the most creative when Peter had that whole five seconds of conversation on his dimension.

“Oh! _Somebody_ better be bleeding, broken, or on fire.”

Wow.

That was a full-out _costume_.

No other words.

That was a proper superhero costume. A flimsy, revealing, horrible costume, but a costume nonetheless. Some stronger fabric, some proper pants, a real shirt and it could be battle-worthy. 

They were inside a sitcom. What would she call it? 

“Whoa, Mom. Are you old Red Riding Hood?” Well, that was rude. She was younger than him. Did Pietro know that? Did Agatha know that?

He snorted, which gave absolutely no insight whatsoever.

“I’m a Sokovian fortune teller.”

Lame.

“Wow. That is so…”

“Rad!” his sister’s more adorable spawn interrupted.

“Lame,” he finally said.

“‘Lame,’” the boy repeated. Billy, right?

“Worse than the costumes mom made us the year we got typhus.” He most certainly had no memory whatsoever of Marya Maximoff making costumes. She was a lot of things, many of them wonderful. Skilled with fabric was unfortunately not one of them. 

“That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

Probably because it was just a random throw at Wanda’s mind to make Pietro less suspicious.

Jean would make mistakes like that when she was in a hurry sometimes.

“You probably suppressed a lot of trauma.”

How could he say that with a straight face? Impressive, really.

Wanda hesitated. He knew she would not catch onto the charade yet, but a speedster could hope.

She walked out anyway.

Tommy, the guy with a far worse costume than Wanda, looked straight into… something.

“Mom has been weird since Uncle Pietro got here. I think it’s because she hasn’t seen him in a long time. And…” Was he picking his nose outside of superspeed? What an idiot. Everyone knew if you pick your nose, do it in superspeed at least. “He’s what you call, ‘a man child’”

Vision came down in a worse costume.

He already missed the atrocities known as the Professor’s idea of seeming more approachable to kids. And humans, but Peter personally did not make a distinction. 

Pietro said something.

Nothing important was happening here. Not that he could see.

Not like those memories mattered.

He let his mind trail off to when he was crushing the kids in video games as they planned to prank the neighbors. Being generally awesome and all. Peter tried to keep his pranks more strategic, this was way too unsophisticated for his usual style, but he could forgive himself. Agatha may not have much creativity, but she certainly had plenty of style to make up for it.

Tommy spoke through the fourth-wall of “sitcom-verse” again. Agatha must be confused. Pietro was confused. Peter thought it was weird how everyone was confused. How did _no one_ realize they were fictional characters at this point? Everything was perfect.

Really, really, really perfect.

Pietro handled the situation kinda weirdly after Vision wanted to go out for the “neighborhood watch”. He bet his life savings he was doing something else. 

Pietro also got in a sweet-looking costume alongside Bi--oh, yeah. Tommy, right. She threatened him about pranks, almost in colorful manners. Peter would actually appreciate it if she _would_ transform him into something. Then he could keep his body from being at the whims of a supervillain.

In real-time, the beads had moved a centimeter. He needed to hurry it up.

* * *

A _lot_ more happened. His brain could barely keep up with it. He had limited time, so he let himself focus on what mattered. The rest whizzed by. He played some lame pranks on neighbors, picked up some candy, his nephews got superpowers--Tommy seemed to have Wanda’s and Billy had Peter’s. At least they were easier to tell apart now.

Tommy had this freak-out moment, forcing Billy back to him. Peter knew the way that power drew… he remembered it far too well. They were definitely Wanda’s kids, that was for sure.

He focused on fear as the beads moved farther from his neck.

“Don’t sweat it, sis! It’s not like your dead husband can die twice.” She had blasted him aside almost immediately. It felt like raw concussive force, now that he did not have to worry about the actual pain. If it had been telekinesis, at least like Jean or Erik’s, he would have felt the impact more than the blast. With this, he felt both equally.

Interesting.

She had the DNA of Magneto, that was for sure. Weird-ass powers were kind of the deal when it came to the Lehnsherr bloodline.

After that, nothing really happened. He woke up with only a few hours before stopping Maria Rambeau’s daughter from discovering Agatha’s secret basement. There was no time to study the rest of his memories. It would be good practice for whatever telepath he hung out with first, they could handle it. Being a mutant had enough downsides; he deserved to take advantage of the perks.

The beads were almost four centimeters off his neck.

He had to go back to real life. No more trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Besides, it was fairly easy to get a good enough guess.

And as badly as Peter wanted to let his teacher and brother instinct take over everything, that was not his life.

He already had one crazy family member.

Maybe it was wrong.

Maybe it was disgusting.

But Peter did not want to save the world. He did not want to save the city that kept him in that pain.

He wanted to save his sister, sure. But… he did not want to fight Agatha Harkness. He did not want to fight for a world that put his family through so much suffering. He was an X-Man. He was supposed to help protect mutantkind and humankind.

But he was also Magneto’s son and he was pissed at the woman who let her grief get the best of her.

A few years ago, he had chickened out of telling Erik Lehnsherr the truth. He was just like Wanda was today, in pain and grieving and manipulated for it. Nothing more, nothing less.

This was different.

Peter was not chickening out.

He simply had no desire to go be the hero.

If his twin sister needed him, he would be there. But this was the daughter of the most powerful mutant to ever live and the sister of the X-Men’s second-strongest player. This was a woman who had been on a superhero team almost as long as Peter had been an X-Man.

She would be fine.

He did not want to save the world. He did not need to make up to the universe about failing himself with Erik; that had gotten him into this mess anyway. His sister could take care of himself; she did not need him. She was not his sister anyway. Wendy was his sister. His sister was gone.

This imposter was not his sister.

Wanda may be struggling. She may be in pain. She may be suffering. For once, Peter found himself following the advice he gave to most of his peers. Teaching kids prone to accidents was hard on the mind.

He would always tell them it was fine to be angry at the kids. As long as the kids never knew how angry they were.

Right now, he was angry at Wanda.

It was an accident, but it _hurt_.

He could not imagine himself ever getting back to normal after all of that. He might actually need help getting out of this mess. The grief may not be his own… but it definitely sparked his own.

And, more than any of that, Peter wanted to go home.

This was the house of a certain Ralph Bohner.

Agatha must have had more than a few contingencies in mind. Setting him with a fake identity so no one would suspect what she truly did. Genius, really. They would assume her to be more powerful than she really was, dismiss any word Peter made as being on her control, and no one would ever suspect she could latch onto multiverse travel.

Really genius.

Or it could be an accident. She had no creativity when it came to pranks; it could always just be the Hex. Considering she could not think of anything better than shaving cream and balloons? That was a clear sign of an amatuer.

_Peter, focus._

He had yet to figure out how any of this happened.

If he had to guess, Agatha wanted a version of Pietro Maximoff. The world was still recovering from that whole Snap thing, so he truly believed he had brought himself here. Agatha had done nothing more than jump onto the opportunity; she had not created it.

Then the Professor’s artificial mental barriers did not fit into the world. The Hex, as SWORD called it, must have simply decided Peter Maximoff was in the wrong world. Nothing that complicated really. Pietro Maximoff just fit into “WandaVision” a bit better.

Monica’s mouth began to open.

Whoops.

He should probably speed up a tad. Better safe than sorry.

One final decision.

The right thing to do: help protect Westview from Agatha or SWORD or whatever the problem was. Be an X-Man. Be selfless. Do not consider his well-being, mental or physical.

The selfish thing to do: let Wanda protect Westview or do whatever she wanted to. Be a human. Choose himself before others for once. Choose his family over the idealized one that got him into this situation. Consider the risks. Consider that if he died in this world, his real team and father would never even get to bury his body.

Be an X-Man or a person.

Peter wanted to go home.

“Oh!” Normal humans would freak out in this situation. “Oh, God! Please, spare my life!”

She was looking angry anyway.

It was fairly easy to play this particular role. All he had to do was mentally replace Monica with literally any other mutant woman in his life--excluding Ororo, of course--and he was set.

“Nice to meet you, Ralph.”

She held that cursed necklace.

Gah, why was she talking so slow? He made a decision, he wanted to finish that decision.

She released him. Whew. That woman definitely had some superpowers up her sleeve. They had not been on SWORD records. Maybe Wanda accidently gave them to her. It would be mildly less weird than Wanda creating a sitcom reality.

“Wow, you would not believe this, but this might be the least crazy thing to happen to me in the past few years.”

“Yeah, for some reason, I don’t. Do you still have those powers?” Uh… they were still inside the Hex, right? The Hex sort of made him Pietro Maximoff. It made sense to still have them, right? 

“Um…” He let her see him again when he was back at the blender. “Okay, this is _sweet_. Awesome. I can’t believe I never… never mind, I don’t think getting superpowers is a normal thing.”

Well, on this dimension.

“I guess you have to leave the Hex then. Interesting.”

“Yeah. It’s kinda cool.” How could he make this less suspicious? He had a game to play as Ralph Bohner. He had to play it. Ralph Bohner would not be a natural with his gift. He would fail pathetically--repeatedly. 

He put a little too much momentum into his legs, “accidentally” crashing into the wall behind Monica.

Not a bad idea, all things considered.

He let his shoulder break most of the fall, but it would definitely leave more than a few bruises.

Monica winced for “Pietro”, now named as Ralph, as he crashed into a wall. Superspeed was apparently a lot harder than it looked.

How did Agnes--she was pretty sure it was Agnes now--perfect “Pietro”’s control? She added that to a growing list of questions.

He stumbled up.

“Whatcha doing, Monica?” 

“I’m--” Wait a second… “--you sound like you did as Pietro.”

He shrugged. “I dunno, I guess the lady wasn’t all that creative.” Something in his eyes said he was talking about more than his personality. A prankster at heart, maybe? That would make sense. Pietro Maximoff was not known for his childish tendencies. This fake version most certainly was.

“Who did that to you?”

“Agatha Harkness,” he answered as calm as would be expected. By that, breathing super fast and stepping as far from Monica as possible. “I think she told me when I was still under that… grief, but I can still remember it. With enough effort, anyway.”

“You… don’t remember?”

“I do. And I don’t. It’s… really weird. I think I was just on a jog and one of them sorta pulled? Considering Wanda’s an Avengers and Agatha’s some crazy super-powerful witch, it’s not surprising. They’re really powerful. Who’d be surprised if they threw in superspeed to improve the deal?”

He was… casual.

Rambling could be a coping mechanism, but Monica had a gut feeling it was a little more complicated than that.

No one, not even Carol, should be able to take _this_ in stride.

Even fake stride.

And especially not with the way he made his decision. This nervousness was an act. He was Ralph Bohner for sure, but there had certainly been a reason Agatha chose him.

What was the reason?

“Alright. How far can you take me--”

“Nowhere, apparently.” She did not comment on how he interrupted her. What he was pointing out, outside the window, was far more important. Wanda stood in the center of a blast of red going towards the top of the Hex. Was she… Monica felt a bit of pride in the other woman. Wanda was the solution. They knew for sure now.

Before Monica could think too hard on it, she heard a crash.

Ralph had demolished the window with his blender. Well… that was one way to do it.. “Sorry, lady, but I want to get out. I can try to drop you off, I guess. Cool outfit, by the way.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“You weren’t on the list. Who are you?” She definitely did not recognize him. She had memorized that list with Darcy, and she did not recognize him.

The only way he came in here was if he came _not_ as a resident. As in, he came after the Hex. Which should be completely impossible.

He shrugged. “Dunno what list you’re talking about, but my name’s Ralph Bohner. Sweet meeting you.”

“Right…?” He was lying. He _had_ to be lying.

“So… want to get involved in that disaster? I can take you if you really want.”

“You’re offering?” That was a quick turnaround. A welcome one, but a quick one.

He was an important piece to the puzzle.

She just _knew_ it.

And now she needed proof she did not have time to get. There were tanks coming in, SWORD tanks.

 _Hayward, you bastard_.

“Yeah.”

“How about offering to use your powers for good? Actual good, not just dropping me off.” Having a speedster on their side would help more than a little.

“No can do, SWORD-lady.”

“And why not?” Was he stalling? 

“Wanda literally kept me trapped inside my head for days. I get that it obviously wasn’t on purpose and all, I totally do. She thought she was making us feel perfect. _I_ thought that for a little while, before the grief hit me.”

She understood, in theory anyway. She remembered that grief. She knew it better than anyone about to attack Wanda did. 

It was drowning.

No ordinary person could be expected to forgive her for that.

Monica barely did.

Ralph shrugged, glancing at the walls of the Hex that began to rise.

She knew that urgency in his eyes.

Wanda was struggling. If he did not go now, he might never make it.

And he was a coward. Perhaps it was rude to jump to conclusions, but he was a coward. Nothing wrong with that trait in a civilian, but he was a coward. He wanted to run. 

There was nothing anyone could say to stop him.

“Like I said, I don’t blame her, but I’m not gonna jump to risk my life for her. She’s an Avengers, she’ll manage. You’re Maria Rambeau’s daughter, you’ll manage too.”

Ralph was gone before the second part hit. She was a few hundred yards away from the tanks. She did not have time to think about it.

But… how…? 

There was no way he could know details about her. Not unless he had seen SWORD’s files. That would be absurd…

Unless she remembered he had a tendency for troublemaking. And a super-reasonable attitude towards Enhanced, an attitude clearly reflecting a disagreement with the Sokovia Accords.

Monica shook her head.

He was not an enemy, at least.

“Ralph Bohner” would be a problem for another time. A certain bastard named Hayward was the problem for now. 

Three days later, Monica had gotten tired of debriefs. It was almost a relief to find a piece of paper in her pocket.

She slipped aside, closing her eyes and letting her body relax.

The paper was not there a moment ago.

She hated how certain she was of who this was.

_Sorry about the abrupt ending._

_I can’t exactly give you my life story, but I’m not who you think I am. I’m not who you thought I was either._

_My name is Peter._

_I’m the music teacher at school for “gifted youngsters”. That’s all I can really tell you, at least now._

_I’d like to tell you the details. To be honest, you’re the only person I’ve met in my recent… well, adventure is not exactly the right word but I don’t know what is, who hasn’t turned out to be a jerk or made one too many mistakes for me to forgive easily. Plus, if Wanda managed to trust you, I think I can manage to leave a few notes._

_When Wanda comes back, I want you to tell her that she’s not alone. She has better coping methods than her dad, although it’s not a hard bar to pass. I hope to tell you--and maybe even her--_ that _particular story one day. I think she would connect with him pretty well, better than I could, that’s for sure._

_Thanks for helping me escape from Agatha._

_I owe you one. Not sure if I’ll ever repay you, but who knows? If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that life is weird. Well, and kleptomania is an awful yet extraordinarily useful coping mechanism, but that’s not super relevant._

_I noticed the whole super-strength thing. If you want advice, I have a list on the back. I got a bit of experience in that area. Heads up: try punching cars, not speedsters. It looked like flight was on the list. There’s another list, one of my good friends, practically my sister, got really good at flying. She liked to talk about it a lot, so I got plenty of experience--in word form, anyway. No clue what half of it means, to be honest._

_Hope that stuff helps!_

_Anyway, I got to go._

_I’ve been delaying it to watch the clean-up effort. Westview is fine, and I can’t worry about Wanda as any more than a concerned teacher. I can’t afford to now._

_Thank her for reminding me of my family, will you? And if either of you ever need a certain awesome speedster’s help, I think my “sister” can contact me. Perks of having cool and infinitely powerful magic, right?_

_~~_

_Your good friend_

_“Ralph Bohner”_

Monica spent a solid minute just staring at the ceiling in thought. 

This was… unexpected? Yet totally expected. It made sense why Ralph still had his powers now. The pranks on the base too, she should have suspected it the second she watched the Halloween episode. 

Shaking her head, Monica stepped out of the side room.

She had the feeling this was not the last of “Peter” but finding a man with superspeed who did not want to be found would be impossible. All she could do was wait for Peter to find her himself.

And she would definitely be telling that to Wanda, next time they saw each other. There would be a next time.

Curiously, Monica let herself peak at the back of the paper.

In perfect handwriting, as he had told her, was a complex list of exercises and tips for flight and super-strength. He was not kidding.

Committing the letter to memory, she crumpled it.

Not the time to start a manhunt for a guy who had no intention of causing them any problems.

Peter felt the rush of wind against his face. It burned, but it was nothing like last time. He was not running away. He was running towards something.

He did not have Wanda’s grief to guide him, nor his own anger and fear to connect them. He did, however, have a destination in mind.

Breaking through whatever dimensional barrier held his dimension apart from this one was fairly easy. Maybe because of his exposure to the Hex, maybe because of his mutant connection to both worlds, or maybe just because it was a weak barrier. Whatever it was, Peter had none of the tears or anger he had possessed on his way here when he first landed on this weird world.

It was weird.

He had gone from being in an alternate universe to being inside a sitcom to running back to the world he ran from in the first place.

It would be a good story, at least.

When he finally saw Westchester, New York once again in all its glory, Peter could not resist a grin.

He had missed this place.

He had missed his home, his family.

He went to Ororo first. She had been working on her power-free martial arts, giving the bag quite a beating.

“Hey, Ororo.”

She barely looked up.

“Oh, hi Peter.” 

“That’s all your gonna say? I’ve been gone for three weeks.” To be fair, he had a habit of disappearing every once in a while, but this was just weird.

“Did you go on a…” she paused, looking for the right English word. Peter waited, trying hard to not let his annoyance show on his face. He loved her, but he had _super speed_. Normal people were sloths when they talked. “Time travel adventure?”

Huh?

“It’s still Tuesday?”

“Wednesday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She stopped punching the bag. “Wait, _did_ you go on a time travel adventure?”

“Uh--it’s a long story. Let the team know I’m going to be gone for a few days, will ya?”

“Why?”

He grinned, trying to hide the way his stomach was turning over with the idea. “Well, it’ll be kinda hard to be here when I’m in Genosha.”

She stopped moving.

“Genosha? Then… good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”

“No, you won’t.” And then she lifted into the air, flying away before he could protest. 

“Well, that was rude.” 

He put an extra burst of speed into his feet, letting the rush of speed and adrenaline fall into him.

“What are you doing here?”

Peter bit his lip to stop himself from coming up with an excuse.

He had barely had a conversation with Erik. The older man probably thought he still hated him… although it was not _entirely_ false. Peter did hate him, or he had a long time ago.

“It’s… can I come inside?”

With some semblance of support from the UN, Erik had begun to slowly activate his plan. The groundworks for a magnificent country were set. Still, as they all know, they needed to get completely recognized by the UN before they could flourish.

So, for now, it was still pretty much a shack.

A shack capable of turning into a war base with a moment’s notice from Erik, at least that was what Raven thought, but still a shack.

“Okay.” 

When Peter came inside and sat on one side of a chess table, Erik stayed almost completely silent. Calm, and silent.

It was _weird_.

He struggled to associate the man in front of him with the one who had attacked the White House fifteen years ago.

“I… this is going to be awkward.”

“I can tell.” 

Was he being sarcastic?

A red glow almost seemed to enter his mind again.

His family from another world. If she had the courage to end that simulation, he could have the courage to say four simple words. _I am your son_. 

If he could give her some semblance of forgiveness for torturing him, however unintentional, for what may have only been days but felt like an eternity, he could forgive his father. He _could_.

“I just came back from an alternate universe.”

Erik barely batted an eye.

“Are you being serious?”

“Yeah, it was _really_ weird. Like, a week before I got there, there had been five years since this evil guy used this stones that controlled the universe or something to wipe out half of all life for _population control_ or something.”

“That’s stupid. He should have decreased fertility rates instead.”

Okay... 

“I mean, it would be a temporary solution. Tragedies tend to end up in rapid birth rates. Without decreasing that, overpopulation can’t get better.”

Not that he was _wrong_ …

“Never mind. I couldn’t ignore the horrid logic. Apologies.”

Peter continued the ramble like that little moment never happened. “And there were no mutants or X-Men, but there was this super-powered team called the Avengers. There was this genius with a technologically advanced body armor, basically. One of the guys, Captain America, apparently was frozen for like seventy years. It was… probably the weirdest experience of my life.”

He should not be surprised that Erik simply raised a single eyebrow.

“Captain America was alive?”

“Wh--wait, he actually _existed_?”

“Yes. His serum destroyed him, and his last actions were destroying it. Clearly, the government did not appreciate it.” 

Well, you learn something new every day.

“What else happened that had you come to me? You must be desperate.”

“No, not desperate. I met someone there, my alternate-dimension sister.”

“Wendy?”

How did he know?

Peter may have mentioned it once or something back during the White House escapee, but that was fifteen years ago. 

“Yeah, but her name was Wanda--mine was Pietro. We were Sokovian--Eastern European--and products of some weird Nazi renmant experiement we kinda volunteered for… it was really confusing.” _Peter, stop rambling_. “And, ah, she sort of made a sitcom reality out of a town for her dead husband where she forced every person in this town called Westview to do her bidding and I was an idiot and kind of walked right into it.”

“That’s… you lost me at sitcom.”

“Sorry, I know I get rambly. I meant, she. Forced--”

“I was joking, Peter. Continue.”

Magneto was making jokes now? The world must be ending… actually, not at all. From the little time Peter spent with him, he had a serious sarcastic streak. Usually hidden behind his murderous tendencies; it was nice to appreciate it for once. 

“Well, I thought the Professor’s barrier would protect me. Long story short, they didn’t and I was altered by the thing she used to alter reality. Then another evil witch--Agatha Harkness of that world, I mean, but she was a bit meaner--somehow put me under her control completely. I have no idea how she did it, I barely remember what happened after I entered the Hex.” He hesitated. This was the moment. 

“Is it over?”

“Yes. It’s over. I ended up leaving before the final fight, but Wanda disappeared and a stupid secret organization was pretty much finishing up with clean-up. That’s not why I… I mean, when I was there, I felt Wanda’s grief. She lost her brother--Pietro, I mean--and her parents and then she had to kill her husband and then watch that same guy who killed her eventually turn back time to kill her husband _again_ and then he killed her and then she came back and everyone came back but he didn’t and… yeah, I’ve had her in my head for a while.”

“Do you need help keeping it from invading your mind?”

“No, that’s… I mean, I kept feeling her grief. And I wasn’t even feeling a fraction of what I know she felt. What I know… you felt. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. When I left, I didn’t leave Wanda because I was running away from those problems. I left her because she deserved closure and I couldn’t forgive her, sure, but mostly because I was running _towards_ what I had.

“Erik, do you remember the first thing I told you when we met?”

“Whiplash?”

In any other situation, Peter might have laughed at the sheer awkwardness. 

“No, after that. On the elevator.”

“You said your mother knew someone who could control metal. I remember. You’re a hard man to forget, Peter.”

He twisted his fingers to try to push off the anxiety. 

Erik remembered him. He was not some insignificant mutant. His brief interactions did not only occur and were not only remembered because of the Professor. 

Erik remembered him as a person.

And maybe he was being manipulative. Maybe he did not remember Peter at all.

For once, he let himself be manipulated if it was manipulation.

He trusted his biological father enough.

“That was her boyfriend. Her name is Marya Maximoff. I’m your son.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write a Dadneto fanfiction one day, but this isn't Magneto's story. He got plenty of awesome movies. This is Peter's chance to shine.
> 
> I tested out a few different ideas while working on how to continue the story. Both from my anger (Come on, "Ralph"), and just because I want to write a good Peter. I've come to terms with the former as a writer solely because it was so well executed and I can't help but admire it, (as a viewer I will be forever bitter. At least until Deadpool 3 forces forgiveness out of me). I like to think the latter fueled this. He deserves so much better than a fake-out storyline in the MCU, and he is a fantastic character to write. This story is my final answer to both problems.
> 
> Another thing: the Captain America thing is my personal headcanon, inspired by X-Men: Evolution.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the encouragement, and I hope you guys enjoyed this!


End file.
